Hair of the Dog
by dnachemlia
Summary: In the aftermath of nature's fury, two agents are trapped in a damaged building. Will the rest of the team get to them in time? Hangman prize fic for Gallatea.
1. Chapter 1

**Hair of the Dog**

Written as a Hangman fic for Gallatea. Prompt was a fic containing these three words: chocolate, yarn, and juggle. They're in the second part, and the title will make sense by the end ;) Two-Shot.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Friendship

Characters: Tony and Tim, mainly, and brief appearances by the rest of the gang

Disclaimer: Don't own. Yadda yadda.

Summary: In the aftermath of nature's fury, two agents are trapped in a damaged building. Will the rest of the team get to them in time?

* * *

"I don't like the look of that sky," declared McGee as he climbed out of the agency sedan, his gaze fixed on the western horizon.

Tony glanced up at dark storm clouds gathering and shook his head when he saw his partner's worried expression.

"Relax, McWeatherman, it's just a little thunderstorm. Besides, it's February: too early in the year for tornados. Let's go."

"Not necessarily true, Tony. They can occur any time the conditions are right." He cast one more worried glance over his shoulder as he followed his partner up the path to the old farmhouse.

"Personally I'd be more worried about what we'll find in there," said Tony. "It looks like Norman Bates' vacation home."

The dwelling in question was the listed residence of one Leonard Campbell, a possible suspect in their most recent case of a murdered Marine, Sergeant Douglas Hanley. Campbell was Hanley's former platoon member, and had been dishonorably discharged based in part on the evidence Hanley had presented against him. Gibbs had given them the task of questioning Campbell, so the two agents had driven to a rural area of southern Virginia in search of their quarry.

"Doesn't look that bad to me," the younger man observed. "We've definitely seen worse."

"Considering some of the places we've seen, that's not a ringing endorsement, McGee."

Tim just shook his head as Tony led the way up the front porch steps and paused at the door where he raised his hand to knock. The first hit caused the door to swing inward and both men immediately stepped to the side, drawing their weapons as they did so.

"Mr. Campbell?" called Tony, but there was no response. He eased the door open and peeked inside. The house was quiet.

"Anything?" asked McGee and Tony shook his head. They eased into the house and cleared each of the first floor rooms before cautiously heading up the stairs to the second floor. They split up to check the front and back bedrooms, and Tony was on his way to check the bathroom when Tim called him. He reversed direction and moved towards his partner's voice. When he reached the front bedroom his followed McGee's gaze and sighed. "Looks like our case just got a lot more complicated."

A man, whom they strongly suspected was Campbell, was stretched out across a blood-soaked mattress. His wounds were quite similar to those they had already seen on Hanley.

"Looks like it," McGee muttered to himself as he pulled out his cell phone. "Only one bar. Let's hope it goes through." He hit the first number on speed dial as Tony surveyed the room.

"No signs of a struggle. Must have caught him while he was asleep."

McGee started to reply to Tony but quickly turned his attention to the person on the other end of his phone call. "Boss? Campbell's dead, looks like the same M.O. as Hanley. Yes, Boss. Got it." He turned to Tony as they ended the call. "They're on their way." He glanced out the bedroom window and frowned. The sky was a sickly gray-green color and the dark clouds were coalescing. He could see the branches of the trees just outside the window whipping back and forth in a crazed dance. "It's really looking bad out there," he said as he turned to Tony with a worried expression on his face. "I hope they can get here. Some of those roads were pretty rough and they'd be damn near impassible in a bad storm."

"They'll get here, McPessimist. Come on, let's get our gear from the car and get started." They didn't have a full scene kit, but the camera they carried would suffice for the initial documentation. They headed back down stairs and when they stepped outside, they were almost knocked over by the force of the wind.

"'It's just little thunderstorm'," muttered McGee as they forced their way through the wind to the sedan.

"Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know the weather'd turn crazy. Come on, I- wait, do you hear that?" They turned towards the source of the sound and froze. A huge, black churning mass was moving towards them at an alarming speed, with pieces of debris flying around the periphery, accompanied by a sound similar to an oncoming freight train.

McGee's paralysis was the first to break and he grabbed Tony by the arm. "Cellar, NOW!" They ran for the house, burst through the front door and dashed to the door that Tim remembered had led to the basement. They clambered down the steps and had just made it to the bottom of the staircase when they heard the tell-tale roar of the tornado.

"Duck and cover!" yelled Tony and they crouched next to the closest wall and covered their heads as the sounds of the house being torn apart drowned out everything else. Tony's covered his ears, closed his eyes and, for the first time in years seriously started to pray.

XXX

"Yeah, Gibbs," the lead agent barked as he attempted to steer the MCRT van through mid-day traffic.

"_Jethro,__ I__ have__ some__ distressing__ news.__" _The concern projected in the M.E. voice caught Gibbs' full attention. _"__The__ area__ where__ we__ are __headed__ was__ just__ struck __by __a__ violent __storm.__ Mr.__ Palmer__ has__ been __keeping__ track__ of __the __event__ and__ there__ have__ been__ several__ reports __of__ tornadoes__ in __the __area.__ I__'__m__ concerned__ that __we__ may __be __unable __to__ get __through. __Have__ you__ heard__ from__ Tony__ or__ Timothy?__"_

"No." He turned to Ziva. "Call Tony. Find out what's going on with the weather there."

"Yes, Gibbs." She dialed the number and frowned as she listened to the message. "Service unavailable." She hung up and then tried to call McGee. "Same message. What is happening, Gibbs?"

"Bad storm. Cell towers are probably out from that." He spoke into the phone again. "Can't reach them, Duck. Keep us posted."

"_I will, Jethro."_

Gibbs snapped his phone shut and glanced at Ziva, who was staring at him with a worried look in her eyes. "They're fine, Ziva."

She nodded, but the expression didn't leave her face. Gibbs returned his full attention to the road and tried not to think about the sinking feeling he'd had in his gut since Ducky's phone call.

XXX

Tony raised his head and opened his eyes, almost afraid to try and see what was causing the excruciating pain in his left ankle. Finally he ventured a look and grimaced. One of the timbers from the cellar ceiling had fallen across his ankle, pinning his leg to the floor. He reached down and tried to lift it with his hands but it was too heavy, so he maneuvered his right foot into the space beneath the hunk of wood and pushed as hard as he could, moving the timber just enough to allow him to jerk his other foot free. He bit back a scream of agony as his injured limb dragged across the rough floor and he collapsed against the cellar wall. Breathing heavily, he examined his ankle in dismay. It was badly bruised and wobbled unnaturally when he tried to move it, eliciting another groan of pain.

"Sure hope you fared better than I did, McGee," he muttered, and sucked in a breath when the realization finally hit him. "McGee?" He turned to his right, where he had last seen his partner, and froze. Beneath a pile of debris he could see a pale, bruised and battered hand.

_Damn it!_

He ignored his throbbing ankle and crawled over to the pile where he stared to dig through the pieces of wood and plaster until he uncovered his partner's head and neck, both of which were covered with a mixture of dust and blood. McGee's head was turned to the side, facing Tony. He pressed two fingers against the exposed side of McGee's neck and let out a sight of relief when he felt the slow but steady beat beneath his fingertips. He cleared away more of the debris and winced in sympathy. The back of McGee's coat was nearly shredded, and several dark stains were apparent, slowly spreading around the multitude of wounds the younger man had sustained. Two heavier pieces of wood lay across his lower back and upper legs, neither of which Tony was able to budge. He put one hand on Tim's shoulder and squeezed, hoping to wake him without causing further damage.

"McGee? You with me?" Tim didn't stir, leaving Tony with an even greater sense of dread. "C'mon, Tim, wake up," Tony cajoled as he squeezed Tim's shoulder harder. Finally he was rewarded with a soft moan and the sight of Tim's visible eye fluttering open. "There ya go, Probie. Wakey wakey."

"Wha…hap…n'd?"

"House fell on us. We're definitely not in Kansas anymore, McToto."

McGee groaned. "I can't…move."

"Yeah, part of the ceiling kind of fell on you, Tim. You're pinned down. I tried, couldn't move the boards." Suddenly a horrible thought struck him. "Can you move anything?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. He grabbed McGee's hand and felt him squeeze his own hand in return. "What about your foot?" Tony looked towards the younger man's feet and saw a slight shifting of the debris around where he expected them to be. "That's good, Tim. You're going to be OK."

"How…you?"

"Ankle's busted. Otherwise, fine." He looked at the large piece of wood laying across Tim's back. "I'm going to try and move these beams again, OK?" McGee nodded slightly and Tony worked to get his good foot under the beam to lever it off his partner. After several tries, he managed to lift it off and away, giving McGee some relief.

"One down, one to go Tim. You doing alright?"

"I think…I've been…better."

Tony gently patted Tim's shoulder and went to work on the other beam. Unfortunately he wasn't able to move it.

"Sorry Tim, this one's not going anywhere."

"Can you get…out. Get help?"

Tony surveyed the rest of the room and sighed. "Stairs are gone, Tim. Pretty sure I can't reach the first floor without them."

"Sorry."

"Guess we're going to have to wait for the rescue workers to find us." He pulled out his cell phone but there was no signal. "Or Gibbs."

"Yeah…"

"And hope the house doesn't collapse in on us in the mean time," Tony muttered after a rather ominous creaking sound broke the silence.

"Great…"

Tony felt a twinge of worry when he realized that McGee's responses were getting slower. "Hey, you've got to stay awake, man." He pulled out a handkerchief and used it to wipe some of the grime from Tim's face and head as he tried to get a better look at his injuries. He found a scalp laceration that was still oozing blood, so he found a clean spot on the cloth and pressed it against the wound, eliciting a moan from Tim in response.

"Sorry, buddy, your head is still bleeding." He continued to clear away more of the debris with his other hand and paused when he uncovered Tim's upper arm. It was soaked with blood. Lacking another handkerchief, Tony removed his scarf and, as carefully as he could, wrapped it around McGee's wound.

"You're going to owe me a new scarf, Probie."

"O…K..."

"Hey, stay with me. No falling asleep with a head injury. You know that."

"Yeah…I do. Sorry."

Tony let out a small sigh of relief at Tim's increased awareness. He tried to think of something, some subject to keep him engaged as he looked at the damaged building above them.

"So much…for pre…serving the…scene."

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, well, I think we have an excuse that even Gibbs will accept this time. Can't stop mother nature."

"Boss…probably try."

"Yeah, probably."

"How…long?"

"Have we been here?" He glanced at the watch in McGee's wrist. "An hour, maybe?"

"Two hours…out."

Tony understood: it would be at least two more hours before the rest of the team could get there, even with Gibbs or Ziva driving. He remembered Tim's earlier concern about the roads and felt a tightening in his gut. _What __if __they__ really__ can__'__t __get __through?_ He shook his head. _No, __Gibbs __will__ be__ here, __come__ hell__ or__ high __water. __Literally._

"They'll make it, Tim. We just have to wait it out."

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

**Hair of the Dog**

Disclaimer: Don't own. Yadda yadda.

Once again, my muse decided the story needed to be longer. There should be at least one more chapter after this one, plus an epilogue.

* * *

Part 2

Tony spent the next hour trying to keep his mind off their current situation. He managed to find two pieces of wood to make a splint for his ankle, sacrificing his tie to complete the apparatus, and informed McGee that this little adventure was playing hell on his wardrobe. The younger man only gave a weak acknowledgment of what Tony had said, so the senior agent focused his attention on keeping Tim awake as well. They discussed the case (or rather, Tony speculated, and Tim made a few rather groggy suggestions) and finally Tony resorted to movie trivia, hoping annoyance would keep his partner awake.

The faint sound of footsteps drew Tony's attention to the room above them. It was too soon for Gibbs to have arrived, but maybe the local rescue crews had.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" He listened, but there was no reply.

"Maybe it's Norman," McGee muttered.

"Norman?"

"Bates…vacation home."

Tony groaned. "You would remember that," he retorted as he turned his attention to the younger man. He waited for the expected come-back but McGee didn't respond and Tony's worry over his teammate increased. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a house fell on me…" Tony chuckled slightly in relief. Tim was apparently maintaining his normal sense of humor, but the fact that he hadn't moved much in the past hour was concerning Tony more than he cared to admit. Before he could ask another question, he heard the footsteps again and looked up to find a long, pointed face with large brown eyes peering down at them. Tony regarded their observer for a few seconds and chuckled.

"Don't suppose your name is Lassie, is it?" The dog cocked its head to one side and chuffed softly. Tony glanced at Tim and managed a grin. "Timmy's not down the well this time, but maybe you can help us anyway." He saw Tim raise his head and shoot him a confused look before he turned enough so he could see their companion. Tim stared for a few seconds before shaking his head slightly and returning to his previous position. The dog gave one short bark and took off.

"See Timmy, no problem. Help is on the way."

"Right…"

Tony reached over and gently patted his shoulder. "It shouldn't be too much longer before Gibbs gets here, at least. But in the mean time…" He heard a soft groan of exasperation and chuckled. "Did I ever tell you about this strange woman I dated?"

"Probably…"

"Oh, no, I'm pretty sure I haven't told you this story. She was an artist, which is how we met. I saw some of her work in a gallery during one of their 'meet the artist' receptions. Her big thing was textiles: use of natural fibers to create paintings with 3D effects."

"Sounds…interesting."

"Yeah, and she was 'interesting', let me tell you. Great body, great smile…" He heard a soft snort from Tim and grinned. "Real animal lover, too. She had these two big, beautiful white dogs. I don't remember what breed, but they were kind of like huskies, just with a lot more hair."

"Samoyed?"

Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at McGee. "That's it. Knew you'd know. Anyway, she took great care of them, always brushing them, and I figured, hey, a woman that takes that great care of her dogs would take care of her man, too."

"Guess that didn't…work like you thought…"

"Well, not exactly. She took pretty good care of me, especially—"

"Stop."

Tony grinned. "Aw, come on, McVoyeur, don't you want to hear-?"

"No."

"Fine, your loss." He remained silent and waited, hoping that Tim would take the bait.

"So…why did you two not…work out?"

"Well, as I said, she was strange. The dogs I mentioned? She was taking the hair she brushed out of them and spinning it into yarn."

"To use…in her paintings?"

"No! She knitted stuff with it. How hinky is that?"

"Heard…worse."

"I'm sure you have, McSlept-In-A-Coffin." Tony waited for the expected retort, but there was none. "Tim?" After several tense moments, he finally heard a response.

"…yeah?"

"Still with me?"

"Not going anywhere…"

"Not until we get out of here, right?" Again, he received no response. He learned down to take a closer look at his partner and sucked in a surprised breath when he saw how much paler McGee had become. "Tim? How are you feeling?"

"Cold…"

Tony took another look around the room as he tried to find something that would serve as a blanket, although he feared the temperature in the basement was not the only source of McGee's discomfort. Finally he spotted a swatch of fabric only a few feet away, protruding from a pile of rubble. He crawled over to retrieve it and was relieved to find an entire blanket when he pulled it out. It was a bit threadbare, but it would do. He shook the dust off of it, returned to the prone form of his partner, and draped it over him.

"That should help. The temperature's dropped a bit. Let's hope they get here before dark or I'm going to have to build us a fire. Maybe I should anyway…I don't suppose you have any matches on you, do you?"

"No…"

Tony checked his pockets, hoping to find a stray matchbook from some bar that he might have used to record a phone number, but instead found a rather squished chocolate bar, its wrapper still intact.

"Well, at least we've got a snack," he said with a forced grin. "Hershey's with almonds, no less. Want a piece?"

"No thanks..."

"Sorry it's not a Nutter Butter, but it's better than nothing, right?" He tore off the end and broke off a piece before holding it in Tim's line of sight. His worry intensified when Tim didn't reach for it. "Probie?"

"Not hungry…stomach hurts."

"How bad?" No response. "Tim, how bad?"

"Bad…enough…"

_Damn__ it!_ Tony already had a long mental list of things that could be wrong with the younger man after this disaster, and now he was quickly adding another.

"Don't worry, McGee, the Calvary should be here soon. Get you fixed up in no time."

"Whatever…you say, Tony…"

XXX

Trooper Ted Elgin watched as a pair of unfamiliar vehicles approached his roadblock. He was waiting with his cruiser on one of the main routes into town, officially to keep outsiders at bay until the Captain was ready to deal with them (and for their own safety, of course). He was glad not to be part of the team in town, searching for bodies and the hoped-for survivors. The devastation he had seen before being sent to his post, as well as on the way, had been bad enough.

The lead vehicle came to a stop just a few yards from him and he walked around to the driver's side, taking in the name of the agency and united painted on the panel truck as he did so.

"NCIS? Sending in everyone, aren't they?"

"We're here for a case," said the silver haired driver, and the expression in those cold blue eyes drove all levity from Elgin's mind.

"The town's basically gone, sir. We're waiting for the official disaster area designation."

"We're not headed into town. Two of my agents are waiting for us at the scene, on Old Cemetery Road."

"Leonard Campbell's place?" Elgin felt a twist in his stomach. He really didn't want to have to give this guy bad news. "The road's impassible, but I don't think you'd find anything out there. Campbell's farm was directly in the path of one of the twisters, based on what I heard on the way out here." The man swore and then turned his steely gaze on Elgin.

"Let us through. Now."

"But sir—"

"NOW."

"Yes, sir." Elgin ran back to his cruiser, climbed in, and immediately backed it out of the way. He had just barely made a wide enough space on the road before the truck roared though, followed by the second vehicle, a van.

"Damn crazy feds," he muttered as the vehicles passed, and then, after a moment's thought, yelled after them.

"_I hope you brought a chainsaw!"_

XXX

Tony silently observed McGee, watching carefully for signs that his partner's condition might be deteriorating further and continued to send out unspoken requests to whatever higher power might be listening that help would come before it did. Tim's visible eye was still open, and the periodic blinks told the senior agent that he was still conscious.

"OK, Probie," Tony said, finally breaking the silence. "Your turn."

"My turn…for what?"

"Who was the strangest person you've ever dated?"

"One track mind, DiNozzo…"

"Yeah, I know, it's part of my charm. Wait, I probably know the answer to this one: Abby, right?"

"No."

"You're kidding." Silence. "Seriously? Was it the one with the Barbie dolls?"

"No."

"Aw, c'mon, Probie! Don't keep me in suspense."

Tim raised his head to look at Tony and sighed. "Junior year at MIT. She was in my fencing class."

"The one you…?"

"Yeah. She tried to help me, but I was…a lost cause."

"Must not have been if she agreed to date you."

"Yeah, well…we had a couple of things in common."

"Like what?"

"Both moved around a lot as kids…Dads weren't thrilled with major."

"Was she a Navy brat, too?"

"No."

"Army? Marines?"

"Don't think you'll believe me…if I tell you."

"Just tell me, Probie."

"Circus."

Tony let out a surprised bark of laughter. "What?"

"She grew up on the road with the circus. Father was a clown. Mother was a trick rider."

"That's…actually pretty cool, Tim. So why was she strange…other than the obvious?"

Tim snorted softly. "She made a really big deal…about meeting her parents, but she said her father…wouldn't let her date anyone who couldn't juggle… so she made me learn. A complete routine…and she wouldn't let me meet them until it was…perfect."

"You can juggle?" Tim nodded. "How come you've never shown us?"

"Figured we already had one clown," he replied with a slight smirk, the first Tony had seen since they'd been trapped.

"Yeah, well, when we get out of here you're going to have to show me, OK."

"If…"

"No, not 'if'. We're going to get out, McGee." He met Tim's gaze so that the younger man could see he was serious. "We will."

Tim opened his mouth to respond just as an ominous creaking sounded above them, and when he looked up his eyes widened in horror. "Tony, look out!"

Instinctively Tony rolled to the side, just as a part of the ceiling came crashing down. After a few moments of silence, he dared to raise his head and look around. A large beam was now embedded in the floor, just where he had been only moments prior, and several small pieces of debris surrounded it.

_Damn, that was close. Good thing Tim was paying attention._

"Might be a good idea to stop tempting fate, McJinx," he muttered, coughing and wincing at the re-awakened pain in his ankle. "You OK?"

The dust settled enough for Tony to get a clear look at his partner. Tim's head was down and he wasn't moving.

"McGee?"

After one more glance at the ceiling to make sure there weren't any more surprises headed his way, Tony crawled over to the prone form. He lifted a piece of wood off of Tim's head and gasped when he saw the fresh welling of blood underneath. He gently shook McGee's shoulder.

"Tim? Come on, man, don't do this to me…"

Tony used the blanket to put pressure on the wound, his worry deepening when it failed to awaken the younger man. He glanced up at the fractured ceiling and sighed.

_I really hope you get here soon, Boss…_

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

****Yes, I know it's been awhile. Two more chapters to go after this one, which will be posted tomorrow and (hopefully) Wednesday.

Disclaimer: Don't own. Yadda yadda.

* * *

Part 3

Gibbs swore as he brought the MCRT truck to a halt, stopping just a couple of yards shy of the obstruction that blocked their path. The large pine tree lay completely across the road, its huge trunk a shocking reminder of the power of the storm that had blown through. Gibbs glanced over at Ziva and saw that she was struggling to remain composed, well aware of what the destruction they saw ahead of them might mean for the safety of the rest of their team.

Gibbs climbed out of the truck to get a better look at the obstacle in front of him. He rapped on the trunk and the hope that maybe it wasn't going to be as bad as he thought vanished. There was no way they could move the tree, and further down the road he could see similar debris blocking it. He turned back to the truck and saw both Ducky and Palmer approaching.

"It appears that the damage is much worse than we had expected, Jethro," Ducky commented when he reached the lead agent.

"It looks like someone went through here with a giant weed-whacker," said Jimmy, and blushed when he saw the look Gibbs gave him. "Sorry…"

"We must make it the rest of the way on foot." said Ziva as she joined them. "It is only another mile to the house."

Before Gibbs could respond they all heard the rumble of a large vehicle approaching. They turned and saw an extended cab pick up truck, obviously designed for off-road driving. After the driver brought the truck to a halt behind the M.E.'s van, Five burly men, all dressed in heavy camouflage jackets and caps climbed out of the cab and another emerged from the back of the truck. The driver approached Gibbs as the rest moved to the cargo area.

"You the Navy cops?" the man asked. "Ted, er, Trooper Elgin said you'd need some help getting to your people out at the Campbell place."

"Looks that way. Agent Gibbs." He tilted his head toward Ziva and then toward Ducky and Palmer. "Agent David, our medical examiner Dr. Mallard and his assistant, Jimmy Palmer."

"Gus Rickman." He turned and yelled back toward the truck. "Jesse! Bring some extra gloves." The youngest of the group nodded and returned to his job of unloading the truck. Soon they were joined by the rest of the men and Gus made quick introductions. "My sons: Bill, Craig, and Jesse; my brother Tanner and my cousin Dylan." The men all gave them brief nods, and Jesse handed pairs of work gloves to Gibbs, Ducky and Palmer. Ziva held her hand out for a pair and the young man blushed.

"Sorry, ma'am, I—" She gave him a withering look, took the gloves Palmer had been given and immediately turned to follow the men who were heading for the tree, chainsaws in hand. Gibbs smirked and shook his head, while Gus chuckled.

"Guess that answered that question. Better go get another pair for…Jimmy, was it?" Palmer nodded and Jesse ran back to the truck as the sounds of chainsaws filled the air.

"This area was hit bad," Gus yelled over the noise. "Ted's trying to get a med-evac chopper on stand-by, just in case."

"Appreciate that," Gibbs yelled in reply. He hoped they wouldn't need it, but after seeing the destruction first hand, he had begun to fear the worst.

The group made relatively quick work of the tree, cutting in into movable pieces and opening up a gap wide enough for the vehicles to move through. The three brothers ran ahead, clearing the smaller but still impassible pieces of debris from the road until they reached the next downed tree. To Gibbs, the process was taking far too long as his worry for his agents increased, but he kept silent and kept working, hoping that they weren't already too late.

Finally they reached the last curve in the road and the farm came into view, the sight of which caused Gibbs breath to catch in his throat and prompted a soft curse from Ziva. The destruction here was almost complete: the house was shifted off its foundation and tilted at a dangerous angle; the roof was completely gone and the remains of which were scattered across the surrounding fields along with most of what had probably been the barn and a few other small outbuildings; two huge trees that flanked the driveway were missing their tops, and the sight of an agency sedan crushed roof-first into one of those trees had Ziva jumping out of the truck before Gibbs had managed to bring it to a full stop and running towards the mangled vehicle. Gibbs threw the truck into park and ran after her as she called out for them.

"_Tony! McGee!"_

Gibbs saw Ziva reach the car and look inside before her shoulders slumped in relief and she turned to him.

"They are not here, Gibbs." She looked around, her usual calm façade all but gone. "Tony! McGee! Where are you?" Suddenly she froze and Gibbs followed her gaze. A pale, bloody arm was protruding from beneath a pile of debris about forty yards from the remains of the house.

Gibbs barely noticed that they had been joined by the rest of the group as he and Ziva ran towards their gruesome discovery. When they reached it, they immediately saw that it could not have belonged to either Tony or McGee, as neither man bore a tattoo on their left bicep.

"Aw, damn…"

Gibbs and Ziva turned to see the group that had followed them. The older men looked sorrowful, while the youngest looked as if he might be sick.

"Poor Lenny. Hell of a way to go," muttered Gus as he removed his cap and held it over his heart. The others followed suit.

"This is Leonard Campbell?"

"Looks like it. I remember when he got that tat." Gus sighed. "Guess we better tell the sheriff."

"No need. He's the reason we came out here in the first place. We'll handle it." Gibbs glanced at Ducky, who nodded and instructed Jimmy to go get their gear. "In the mean time, we still have two missing agents."

"Happy to help search for them, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs thanked the man and gave the group brief instructions before they spread out to search the area while Gibbs and Ziva headed for the house.

"You do not think they…?" Ziva began as they reached the rickety building.

"I don't know, Ziva. _DiNozzo!"_ he yelled. _"McGee!"_

"_Tony! McGee!"_ Ziva echoed as they searched the rubble for signs of their team. Gibbs listened, hoping to hear a response, and fearing that he never would.

XXX

Tony checked his watch again and struggled to remain calm. It had been nearly two hours since the cave-in, and McGee was still unconscious. The bleeding from his newest head wound had finally stopped, and Tony was keeping a tight grip on Tim's wrist to assure himself it was due to natural clotting rather than the loss of a heartbeat. The pulse in the younger man's wrist was weak but steady, and Tony could only hope that it stayed that way until help arrived.

"Gibbs should have been here by now, Probie," he muttered. "What the hell is taking him so long?" There was no response, so Tony had to provide one on his own. "Yeah, I know, we don't know how bad it is out there. He's probably fighting treacherous roads and crossing raging torrents to get here. Not even Nature's fury can stop the man, right?" Still no response. "Aw, come on, Tim, don't do this too me. Do you have any idea what Gibbs will do to me if something bad…_really_ bad happens to you?" He waited for some sort of response but Tim remained silent and still. He was so pale that Tony really had to rely on the weak beat he could still feel under the fingers wrapped around Tim's wrist to convince himself that his partner still remained among the living.

Tony sat in silence for a few more minutes, acutely aware that the temperature had been steadily dropping for the past hour and what that could mean for both of them.

"Alright, Probie, listen up. If you don't wake up right now I'm going to tell Abby about your freaky circus girlfriend. You know she'll never let you live that one down." He paused, waiting for some acknowledgement of the threat but Tim never moved. Tony felt a surge of guilt at his rather callous attempt to awaken his partner. He placed a gentle hand on the younger man's forehead and leaned over to speak in his ear. "Tim? You know what Gibbs would do in this situation, don't you? He'd tell you that you don't have permission to die. I know I'm not Gibbs, but…I'm not giving you permission either. Do you understand me, buddy?" For a moment Tony thought he saw a brief twitch of McGee's eyelid, but that was all. "Come on, man, I know you can hear me." Nothing.

_Damn it…_

Tony was about to try to rouse McGee one more time when he thought he heard a familiar voice.

"_Tony! McGee!"_

"Ziva?" He listened carefully, but he didn't hear it again. "Must be wishful thinking, Probie…"

He continued to listen, unconsciously stroking McGee's head, as much to comfort himself as his partner. Suddenly he heard another voice, one he had been hoping to hear.

"_DiNozzo! McGee!"_

"Boss?" He heard the first voice again.

"_Tony! McGee!"_

"Ziva?" He sighed in relief. "Told you they'd be here, Tim." He gathered all of his strength and yelled. _"BOSS! ZIVA!"_ He paused to listen and grinned when he heard a response.

"_Tony! Where are you?"_

"CELLAR!"

He glanced at McGee, hoping that the yelling would finally awaken him, but McGee remained silent and still. Soon he heard footsteps and a face appeared in the gap above them.

"Hey, Boss. Damn am I glad to see you!" Tony's mood sobered quickly as he remembered his primary concern. "You need to get McGee out of here, Boss. He…I can't get him to wake up." Gibbs disappeared for a moment and Tony heard him tell Ziva to go get Ducky before he reappeared.

"What happened?"

"We came down here to get away from the tornado. McGee got knocked out but I woke him up. He was pinned by some beams, I got one of them off, but I couldn't budge the other one…did the best I could but my ankle's busted. We were waiting for help, just talking, and another part of the ceiling…floor, whatever came down." Tony pointed to the imbedded beam. "He warned me in time and I got out of the way, but…he got knocked out again. Been out ever since, probably a couple of hours." Tony took a deep breath. "He saved my life, Boss, and I…I can't help him."

Before Gibbs could reply, Ducky appeared next to him.

"Anthony, are you all right?"

"Fine, Ducky, except for my ankle, but McGee, he's in bad shape. We've got to get him out of here."

"Don't worry lad, we will." Ducky turned and called out instructions to Palmer to bring his medical kit. "Jethro, I need a way to get down there."

Tony relaxed a little as he realized help was coming for Tim and himself and he leaned over to speak to the still unconscious man. "We're going to get you out of here, Probie. Just hang on." He experienced a moment of terror when he could no longer feel the weak beat beneath his fingers, but breathed a sigh of relief when he realized they had slipped off the pulse point. He quickly found it again and his worry returned. Tim's pulse had slowed considerably. "Tim? Come on, man, don't do this, not now." The beat remained steady, but still too slow for Tony's comfort. "Ducky!" he yelled and immediately drew Gibbs' attention.

"Tony? What's wrong?"

"It's McGee, he…he's getting worse, Boss. Please, tell Ducky to hurry." He heard Gibbs barking orders, and soon he heard several unfamiliar voices before a rather beat-up ladder was lowered into the cellar and Ducky descended, followed almost immediately by Gibbs. Ducky carefully made his way around the debris and knelt by McGee's prone form as he started to examine him. Tony anxiously watched the M.E. as he checked over the younger agent and struggled to take McGee's vitals without moving him too much.

Tony let out a startled yelp when something touched his injured ankle and turned to see Palmer who stammered an apology.

"S-sorry, Tony."

Tony winced and returned his attention to Ducky. "How bad is he?"

The M.E. looked up at Gibbs, who had been silently watching both of his agents. "Please tell Mr. Rickman that we will be needing the emergency transport, as soon as possible." He turned to Tony. "I'll be able better assess him once we get him out of here, but right now his pulse and respiration are dangerously low." He pulled down the blanket and examined McGee's battered body. "Good Lord…" Tony leaned closer and winced as Ducky uncovered more wounds scattered across Tim's back.

"Anthony, please." He gave Tony a reproachful look before turning to his assistant. "Mr. Palmer, prepare Agent DiNozzo for transport."

"No, Ducky, take care of Tim first, he—"

"We need to get _you_ out first, Tony, so we can help McGee," Gibbs replied and received a nod of thanks from Ducky.

"But—"

"Come on, Tony," said Gibbs as he and Palmer helped the agent up off the floor and helped him balance on one leg. Palmer secured a makeshift harness around him and soon two burly men appeared at the gap in the ceiling to help pull him to safety.

"Be careful of his leg," instructed Palmer, and, surprisingly gently, the men hoisted him out of the cellar and carried him to the MCRT truck where Ziva waited. She wrapped a thermal blanket around him and helped him climb up into the truck where she propped his ankle up into a slightly more comfortable position. He ignored her questions and Palmer's ministrations, his focus on the man still trapped in that basement.

XXX

After he saw that Tony was being taken care of, Gibbs returned to the cellar just as Bill and Dylan arrived with one of the gurneys from the M.E.'s van. He tried not to think about the significance of Tim being placed on a gurney that normally carried the dead and crouched down next to Ducky.

"How is he, Duck?"

"The sooner we can get him out of here, the better."

"Ted said the chopper can be here in about 20 minutes," said Bill. "That's the best they can do. Too many folks injured and not enough space at the local hospital."

"What's the next closest medical facility?"

Bill glanced at Dylan. "Probably Staunton," the older man replied. "It's about forty five minutes by car."

"We'll drive him there if we have to, then. First we need to get this beam off his legs." Gibbs and the two men worked on it and were finally able to move the larger timber away from McGee. Ducky gently felt the area where it had rested for far too long and grimaced. "I suspect that there are pressure fractures present, but I can't be sure without x-rays." He continued his exam and paused. "He has some swelling in his lower back, probably from the other beam. We must be extremely careful moving him. I wish we had time to wait for the emergency staff, but-"

"We can help," said Bill, and drew a surprised look from both Ducky and Gibbs. "Me an' Dylan are both trained as EMTs." Ducky studied them for a moment and nodded.

"All right, let's get started."

The two men and Ducky were able to get McGee onto the gurney without jostling him more than necessary, although Ducky was worried that none of their manipulations had managed to wake the agent. With the help of the rest of the Rickmans, they were able to raise the gurney out of the cellar and quickly carried McGee to the M.E.'s van. Tony saw them approach and started to rise from his seat in the truck, only to be restrained by Ziva and Palmer.

"Boss! Is he-?"

"He's alive. The med-evac chopper should be here soon. He'll be OK, Tony."

Tony nodded, although he didn't look convinced as he stared at the still form on the gurney.

Gibbs looked down at his agent and placed a hand on his forehead. He was much more worried than he wanted to let on, but he spoke to the unconscious man with the confidence his team expected of him. "You _will_ be all right, McGee. That's an order."

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

**Hair of the Dog**

Disclaimer: Don't own. Yadda yadda.

* * *

Part 4

Tony dropped the TV remote on the bed next his leg and pounded on the mattress in frustration. They had arrived at the hospital in Staunton four hours ago, and McGee had been taken away to be assessed before Tony could remind the younger man of what was expected of him: that he would pull through and come back to them. As for Tony, the ER doctors had treated him for a very mild case of hypothermia before sending him to the radiology department for x-rays. Tony's ankle was badly fractured and would require surgery, but the current swelling around the joint necessitated a delay in the treatment until the inflammation had receded. They had put a soft splint on it, started him on anti-inflammatory drugs and pain killers, and confined him to a hospital bed. Gibbs had been there to make sure he was settled in, but Tony had insisted that he should be with Tim and the lead agent, sensing a battle that even _he_ was unlikely to win, had acquiesced to Tony's request.

Palmer had come by an hour later to let Tony know that McGee was in surgery, was expected to be for some time, and that someone would let him know as soon as they heard something. The Autopsy Gremlin had attempted to keep him company, but Tony was too worried about his partner to hold up his end of the conversation. The painkillers didn't help in that regard, either. Finally Palmer had left and Tony had attempted to distract himself with the TV, but there was absolutely nothing on, and he was left again with his worries.

A nurse came in to check his vitals and he immediately asked her about his partner, but she had no information to share. Sensing his anxiety, she asked him if he needed something to help him sleep, but he refused. He couldn't sleep until he knew how Tim was. Just as she was leaving, Gibbs appeared in the doorway of his room. After a brief discussion, she left and he stepped into the room.

"Boss, how's Tim? Have you heard anything?"

"He's still in surgery, Tony. It's going to be awhile."

"What's wrong with him?"

Gibbs sighed. "They're worried about the head trauma and they been working on that, but he has a lot of other injuries, including some internal bleeding. They're doing the best they can."

Before Tony could respond, the nurse returned and injected something into his I.V. Almost immediately he began to feel drowsy and started to protest, but Gibbs held up a hand to silence him.

"You need to rest, Tony. They expect to be able to fix your ankle either tomorrow or the next day. In the mean time, you need to get to sleep. The rest of us can take care of worrying about McGee."

"But Boss…"

"Sleep, Tony."

Tony fought to keep his eyes open, but soon he lost the battle and fell into a dreamless sleep.

When he awoke the next morning, Ziva was sitting by his bed, reading a book. Soon she noticed that his eyes were open and she smiled.

"Good morning. How are you feeling?"

"How's Tim?" A flicker of unease crossed her expression and Tony felt a surge of fear. "What happened? Is he…?"

"He is out of surgery, and they are keeping a close watch on him in the ICU. He…he could be worse, I suppose."

"Damn it…" Tony closed his eyes and after a few moments he felt a hand gently encircle his wrist.

"He will be OK, Tony. He does not have permission to be otherwise."

Tony chuckled weakly. "Yeah, I guess not."

"And neither do you." He opened his eyes and stared at her. She winked and he managed a grin.

"Noted." Suddenly he remembered what had brought them all to the area in the first place. "What happened with Campbell? Did you find him?"

"Ducky and Palmer are working on him now. Ducky said…it should be interesting to separate the work of our murderer and the work of Mother Nature. But…I have no doubt he will be able to do so."

"If anyone could, he could. What about the storm?"

"The town was declared a disaster area. They are still trying to determine how powerful the tornado that struck actually was."

"Oh, come on, that had to be one of the big ones, an F5."

"Actually, they don't use that scale anymore. It's now the EF scale," said a man, obviously a doctor, as he entered Tony's room.

"Oh, right…"

"How are you feeling this morning, Agent DiNozzo?"

"I suspect I've been better."

"Yes, I'm sure you have." He examined Tony's ankle and gave him a small smile. "This is progressing well. The swelling is decreasing as expected, so I'll schedule your surgery for tomorrow morning."

"Great…"

"It's a relatively simple procedure. You'll be fine."

"Lucky me. Hey, Doc, do you know anything about the other agent that came in with me, Tim McGee? How is he?" He heard Ziva's exasperated snort and ignored her, focusing his attention on the doctor.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss other patients, even if I had information on Agent McGee. I'm sorry." He gave Tony a sympathetic smile. "I'll be back to check on you later."

"Yeah, OK."

The doctor left, and Tony stared at the door, waiting for someone who could actually tell him what he wanted to know. Ziva watched him for a moment and sighed.

"Why are you so worried, Tony? McGee is in good hands."

"I…stuff like this, it just doesn't happen to him. I mean, sure, he gets banged up a little, but he always bounces back. This time…it's bad, isn't it?"

Reluctantly, she nodded. "But he _will_ be OK, Tony."

"I really hope you're right, Ziva."

XXX

The next morning, just before the nurses came in to take Tony to surgery, Gibbs arrived to finally give him some good news: McGee was showing definite improvement and they expected to be able to move him out of the ICU by the end of the day.

"When can I see him?" Tony asked as the nurses arrived and started to transfer him to a gurney.

"When _you're_ recovered, Tony," said Gibbs with a smirk. "He's not going anywhere for awhile."

"But—"

Gibbs patted his head as he was wheeled out the door. "You've got time, DiNozzo. Now go get yourself taken care of."

"Yes, Boss."

XXX

Several hours later, Tony awoke, surprised to find himself already back in his room. He noticed movement and turned to see Gibbs smiling down at him.

"Welcome back, Tony."

"Hey, Boss…how…how did I do?"

"You did just fine, DiNozzo. You'll be ready to go home in a couple of days."

"How…how's Tim?"

Gibbs chuckled. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

Tony's eyes widened and he turned his head in the direction Gibbs had indicated. His breath caught in his throat when he caught sight of the occupant of the bed next to his own. Tim was propped up to keep the pressure off his back and his head was turned towards Tony. His head, arm, and chest were bandaged and a nasal cannula was supplying him with oxygen. He was still pale, but not deathly white as he had been back in the cellar, and although his eyes were closed it was clear that he was just sleeping. Tony let out a soft sigh of relief when he noted the steady, _strong_ beat on the heart monitor next to Tim's bed.

"They figured nobody would get any peace unless you two were together, so there you are."

"Thanks, Boss. Is he…?"

"As good as can be expected, and he's going to be fine. First thing he asked about when he woke up was you." Gibbs chuckled. "Seems you are two of a kind."

Tony managed a weak grin. "He'd probably be disappointed to hear that, Boss."

"Kind of doubt that, Tony. Now get some rest, will ya?"

"Yes, Boss."

Gibbs rested his hand on Tony's head for a brief moment before walking over to McGee and repeating the gesture. He then turned and walked out the door, pausing briefly to look back at his agents before finally disappearing down the hall.

Tony returned his attention to his partner and watched the lines flow across the various monitors, data that showed him, without a doubt, that Tim was alive. What he had feared had not come to pass. He had not completely failed to protect his partner…this time.

Soon he noticed Tim's eyelids twitch.

"Probie?"

After a few moments, Tim's eyes finally opened. Confusion, then fear flickered across his face before he caught sight of a Tony and slowly smiled.

"Hey…"

The soft, raspy voice was music to Tony's ears.

"Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?"

"Kinda…numb."

"Oh…they must have you on the good drugs."

"I…guess. Are you…OK?

"Never better, Tim."

"Kinda…doubt that. Sorry…got you into…this mess."

Tony let out a surprised snort of laughter. "You saved _my_ life, Tim. Not gonna forget that. I'm glad you were there. Are we clear?"

"Yeah…clear. Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks…"

"For what?"

"Just…being there…for me."

Tony grinned.

"Hey, that's what partners are for."

Tim smiled and his eyelids slid shut. Tony watched him for a few minutes, assuring himself that his partner, his _friend_, was going to be alright.

"Goodnight, Tim."

"G'night…Tony."

Tony grinned. They were _both_ going to be OK.

TBC…


	5. Epilogue

**Hair of the Dog**

Disclaimer: Don't own. Yadda yadda.

* * *

Epilogue

_***six weeks later***_

Tony stepped off the elevator, happier than he had been in weeks, and made his way to his desk. The day promised to be a good one indeed: the heavy cast on his ankle had been replaced with a lighter walking cast and he had been able to ditch the crutches that had been a constant source of frustration, he had managed to make it into work early for the first time in quite awhile, and today was the day that his Probie would finally be back at work. Tony hated desk duty, but as they say, misery loves company, and he was glad to have someone with whom to commiserate.

He tucked the bag he had been carrying under his desk and waited for the arrival of the rest of his team. While he pretended to be working on the stack of cold case files that had been the most recent bane of his existence, he mulled over the events of the past few weeks in his mind.

Tony had spent three additional days in the hospital after his own surgery but had stayed in town until McGee was well enough to be transferred to Bethesda. Tony had known it wasn't rational, but the nagging feeling that if he didn't keep an eye on Tim something even worse would happen to the younger man remained. Tim had spent most of that first week in a drug-induced slumber as the multiple injuries he had suffered started to heal, but when he was awake he had genuinely seemed happy for Tony's company. When he had suffered a couple of minor setbacks in his recovery, Tim had learned to rely on Tony's assurance that he would get better, and Tony had been more than willing to provide the support. The men's experience had changed their relationship, or made it more obvious to them what the rest of the team had always known: they were there for each other when it really counted.

The sound of the elevator pulled Tony from his thoughts and he looked up to see the doors slide open and McGee step out. The younger man paused to look around, a slight smile on his still too-pale face, and he slowly walked to his desk. He moved with a slight limp, a reminder of the pressure fractures he had suffered to his upper legs, but his gait was steadier than it had been just a few days ago.

"Probie!" Tony called before McGee had made it even half-way to his desk. "Welcome back!"

"Thanks, Tony," McGee replied when he finally reached his seat and lowered himself into it. He studied the decorations that graced his work area and Tony chuckled at his bemused expression.

"Abby missed you."

"Yeah, I can see that. Odd, though, since she's been by my place almost as often as you."

"_Timmy!"_

The woman in question dashed through the bullpen, arms wide open, and Tony barely managed to grab her before she could wrap McGee in one of her trademark over-enthusiastic hugs.

"Whoa, there, Abs."

"Sorry, sorry, I'm just so glad to have him back!" She eased out of Tony's grip and gave Tim a gentle hug. "It's good to see you at your desk again, Tim. We missed you."

"So I've been informed," he responded with a soft chuckle. "Even though you saw me yesterday. _Both_ of you."

"But that wasn't at work. It's not the same," she insisted. Tim raised an eyebrow and Tony grinned.

"Can't argue with Abby-logic, McGee."

"Good point."

Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Ziva, who leaned over McGee's desk and cupped his cheek with one hand. "I am happy to see you as well, McGee. It has not been the same without you." She glanced over at Tony and smirked. "I was afraid Tony would soon go stomp crazy."

"Stir-crazy," both men corrected in unison.

"Awwww, I've missed that, too," said Abby. She kissed Tim's cheek and giggled before turning to Tony and kissing his cheek as well. "You boys behave now. I'll see you at lunch." She walk-skipped back towards her lab and the three agents couldn't help but smile.

"Behave? Us?"

"Always a first time, DiNozzo," Gibbs announced as he strode towards his desk, coffee in hand. He paused and looked at McGee before giving him a half-smirk. "Good to see you back, Tim."

"Thanks, Boss."

"Someone's gotta keep DiNozzo in line." Gibbs handed McGee a stack of folders. "I trust you two can stay busy until we get back. Come on, Ziva. We've got interviews to do."

"Yes, Gibbs. I will see you two later," she said with a wink and followed Gibbs to the elevator.

Once they were gone, Tony pulled the bag he had stashed earlier from under his desk and carried it over to McGee.

"What's this?"

"A welcome-back present, and a reminder that you have something to show me."

Tim sent Tony a puzzled look and opened the bag. He removed the contents, five multi-colored bean bag "balls" and shook his head. "I can't believe you remembered that."

"How could I forget that my partner has a hidden talent he's never shared with his co-workers? Go on, I want to see you juggle those."

"I'm a little out of practice, Tony."

"I understand…but I still want to see what you can do."

Tim studied him for a moment and grinned. "OK. He goes nothing." He took two of the balls and set them on the edge of his desk, then placed two more in one hand and grabbed the last with his other hand. Soon he had a simple cascade routine going with the three balls, then added a fourth, and after a few rounds, finally added the fifth to the pattern. He went through a couple of cycles before catching all five balls and finishing the routine.

A soft patter of applause caused both men to freeze before they looked toward the source of the sound.

"Uh, Director…I can explain."

"I'm sure you can, Agent McGee," he said, and the amused expression on his face allowed the two men some measure of relief. "But in the future, do that on your own time."

"Yes, sir."

"Agent McGee?"

"Uh, yes, Director?"

Vance gave him a rare smile. "Welcome back." He turned and headed back to his office before either agent could respond.

"Guess we better get to work, huh, Probie?"

"Just one thing, Tony," said McGee and pulled a flat package from his backpack. "I owed you something else." He handed the box to Tony and sat back with a smile.

"What's this?"

"Just open it."

Tony shook the box and when nothing rattled within, he tore off the plain paper and lifted the lid, chuckling when he saw the contents.

"Yeah, I guess I did tell you that you owed me a new one of these. I'm surprised you remembered _that_." He reached in and lifted the scarf from its nest of tissue paper. "Wow…this is _really_ soft." He examined the chocolate-brown material. "What is it? Angora?"

"Nope. It's Chiengora,"

"Chiengora? Wait…isn't that yarn made from…?" He noticed his partner's slightly wicked grin. "It's dog hair!"

Tim laughed, the first genuine laugh Tony had heard from him in weeks. The senior agent hadn't realized how much he had missed that…

"You…you're incorrigible," he declared before breaking into laughter himself.

"I learned from the best, Tony. I learned from the best."

Still chuckling, Tony took the scarf and flung it dramatically around his neck before settling back in his chair. "Time to get back to work, Probie."

Tim turned to his computer, still grinning, and started to type. The familiar rhythmic clacking of keys was music to Tony's ears, and he now finally had what he had been craving for weeks.

They were on their way back to normal.

The End


End file.
